Merry Christmas, Darling
by GleeCrosse2134
Summary: It's Christmas at the Men Of Letters bunker, and while Gabe tries to seduce Sam, Dean wallows in self-pity as he waits with ever-dying hope for his angel to appear. Then he starts to sing, and Castiel hears him.


**A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! I apologise in advance for any mistakes, I haven't proof read it – only spell-checked it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.**

"Dean." Sam's voice echoed throughout the bunker. It was carried down the stairs and into the open living room, where Dean was currently resting on an armchair with a bottle of beer in one hand and a button in the other. It was the same button he'd been fiddling with all day; he refused to tell anyone where he'd got it from in his typical _feelings are weak and girly _way – "It's none of your business, Sam, now get me some booze."

It was Christmas Eve, and Sam had spent the whole afternoon with Gabriel decorating the place – or, well, Sam was decorating while Gabriel played tricks which hindered his progress and tried his seemingly endless supply of pick-up lines if not to actually pick him up then to see his Moose blush. In the end, they had done quite nicely – decorating, not making Sam blush. There was tinsel and holly and streamers and little angels (courtesy of Gabriel's midnight 'shopping') strung up everywhere, but rather tastefully (also courtesy of Gabriel; he may not have done any of it himself, but he was there to stop Sam from going overboard).

"Deeeaaaaaaan!" Gabriel's much louder shout almost vibrated throughout the bunker, and Dean winced. It was almost as if he had – oh, wait, yeah he had.

"Fucking hell Gabriel! Can you not shout right in my ear?"

"Nope. Impossible. I'm sorry, Dean-o, but we need you to snap outta your little Cas-fueled sulk and get your ass into motion! It's Christmas eve! This calls for booze, sweets and _games._"

Dean sank even lower into his seat, and glared at Gabriel from under lidded eyes. 'I am not sulking, and even if I was, it's not because of Cas."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, and though he shot Dean a disbelieving look surprisingly left it alone. Probably promised Sam not to push Dean to the brink of murder again. What would murder of an angel be called? Angelcide? Seraphcide? A sin? The way of the world? How to stay sane? He should probably stop thinking about it, lest he act upon his thoughts.

"So then. Games. Oh SAMBO!" With a snap of his fingers Gabriel disappeared, probably to haunt Sam if the shout that came from his direction was anything to go by.

Dean just relaxed once again into his armchair, rubbing his thumb over the button before flicking it up into the air like a coin. He sighed... Gabriel was right. This was the button he'd managed to pull off the angels trademark trench coat before he'd disappeared, promising to be back before Christmas in the way that only an angel can; by putting him to sleep and leaving a message in his dreams.

Christmas eve, and no Cas. He knew the angel probably wouldn't keep his promise, but he hoped. He hoped so friggin' hard. He even prayed. But no dice.

Dean has known for a while that he's had a thing for Cas. Ever since Cas beat the living crap out of him, before taking him back to the apartment and healing him. When Cas' feather light touches drifted over his head and chest, he started shivering. When Cas spoke, with his deep, gravelly voice, a warm feeling swirled in his belly, along with a fuck-ton of butterflies. When Cas appeared centimetres away from him and stared at him with those intense blue eyes his heart beat so loudly and fast that he was sure everyone in the room could hear it. He knew these things would happen to him whenever Castiel was near, and – to a certain extent – counted on them.

What he didn't count on, however, was a very perceptive archangel noticing his... crush.

Dean sighed. It was 7 o'clock Christmas Eve, and the angel hadn't shown his pretty face yet. Of course Cas wouldn't turn up. Why should he? Though Christmas may have originated from his religion, it didn't mean he celebrated it. It didn't mean that he recognised the importance of being with those you love on Christmas Eve. He knew Cas loved him, at least, loved him like a brother, but he'd been growing distant lately. Dean didn't like it one bit. And it wasn't like he was growing distant in general – he still conversed with Sam about the ancient languages and law v. moral and whether trench coats could make a comeback, and he still argued with Gabriel and confused Bobby with his strange views on human customs – it was just Dean. Whenever Dean entered a room, Cas would make sure he was as far away as possible, and whenever Dean tried to talk to him he would brush it off in the way he used to when he came back from leading the angelic army for half the war. His interactions with Dean were brisk and clean cut, and though Cas still stared at him with that beautifully intense gaze of his, instead of maintaining eye-contact when Dean caught him he would look away and almost seemed as if he were _blushing._

Dean had no idea what to make of this, other than Cas was finally tiring of him and trying to let Dean down easy, without hurting his feelings. Which most definitely wasn't working. He'd always known there would come a time when Cas got bored of him; he wasn't anything special. He dropped out of high school, wasn't too smart anyway – the only things he really had going for him were his looks, his way with cars and his hunting skills, and even then his little brother could easily become a better hunter than him if he tried. Yeah, he may be the Michael sword – all it meant was that his ancestors were special. Important. And with the threat of the apocalypse far behind them, Dean wasn't important or needed in any way or by anyone. He was worthless (and hadn't he heard that enough times already?).

Of course, if he said any of this to Sam or Cas or Bobby they would deny it straight away. Say he was being stupid. That they needed him, that he was an amazing hunter, that he was _important. _Well, maybe just Sam and Bobby. Cas may have gathered some people skills in the past few years, but he still wasn't the best liar.

All in all, Dean was feeling pretty worthless and depressed as he flipped the button once again.

He heard another shout, this one coming from the hallway, and moments later a red-in-the-face Sam burst through the doors to the right of Dean and dove for cover behind the coffee table. Gabriel walked into the room next, looking pretty pleased with himself. When he saw Dean still sitting in the armchair, he posed against the wall and raised his eyebrows, waiting.

Dean rolled his eyes, and asked the question. "What did you do this time?"

Gabriel smirked and ran a hand through his air, as if he was being humble. He wasn't. "Well... Gigantor here may have caught a glimpse of what could be stuffing _his _stocking later on tonight, but..." Gabe laughed. "That's really up to him, isn't it?"

Sam peeked out from behind the coffee table to glare at Gabe. "Nothing – I repeat, _nothing –_ of yours will be stuffing my stocking tonight. Ugh." He said as Dean burst out laughing and Gabe smirked. "I did not just say that."

"Yes you did, Gigantor. It just proves that you are slowly being seduced by the Trickster! Soon you'll be wrapped around my finger... literally." Before Gabe could make any lewder comments, Sam picked up a mug of eggnog and threw it at him, causing the archangel to disappear to God knows where and a perfectly good mug to smash against the wall.

Dean glared at Sam. "Your turn to be house-maid, Sammy."

Sam let out a sigh of relief, and stood from his crouch on the floor. "I'd take that over 'decorating' with Gabe any day. You do not want to know what he was saying to me."

Dean nodded fervently. "I most certainly do not. I hear enough of it when we're in the same room, and if that's how bad it is when you guys are around others I do _not _want to know what goes on behind doors."

Sam gulped audibly, and made his way out to the kitchen in order to retrieve a dustpan. Once the mess was removed, he told Dean he was just going to go to the library to do some research and "hide in a corner where I hope to God Gabriel will have to spend a long time trying to find me".

Left to himself once again, Dean wallowed in his self-loathing while clutching Cas' button. He started humming a song that had been stuck in his head all day, the type he would never admit to knowing off by heart. It was a Carpenters song – so opposite to AC/DC that he's fairly certain there's no risk of anyone suspecting him actually _liking. _Before he knew it, he'd started singing.

"_Greeting cards have all been sent. The Christmas rush is through... but I still have one wish to make; a special one for you._" His voice, though soft, rang out through the open room, and a certain angel, though thousands and thousands of miles away, looked up at the night sky at the sound of his hunter singing.

"_Merry Christmas, darling'._" He stopped when he heard a floorboard creak but, quickly dismissing it as nothing but paranoia, relaxed back into the tune of the soft melody.

"_We're apart, that's true, but I can dream, and in my dreams, I'm Christmasing with you._" Dean smiled at this, imagining his angel in his minds eye, laughing as they put decorations on the tree, staring at him, those spectacular blue eyes wide with confusion as Dean explained some obscure Christmas tradition to him, the comprehension that would dawn in them when he finally understood, the way they would sparkle as he smiled as if there was some joke that had been told that only he'd heard. Dean would give up everything just to look into those eyes one more time, and that scared the crap out of him. He'd never felt like this about anyone, and knowing that he would give _anything _for Cas, knowing that he had that kind of power over him that not even Sammy had, was terrifying.

"_Holidays are joyful, there's always something new. But every day's a holiday, when I'm near to you._" The thought of being near to Cas – being able to touch him and hold him and stroke his hair – sent Dean's heart beating like crazy, and if he closed his eyes he could just see it; Cas, with his arm flung across Dean's chest, face buried in his shoulder, body pressed up against Dean's. Dean's arm around Cas' back, pulling him in closer, his chin resting atop that short, soft brown hair, his other hand stroking the back of Cas' neck. He would smell like the forest just before it rains, with that slight metallic twang that makes it so addicting, and something else that... well, it's been said many a time before, but he smelt like something that was just so _Cas._

"_The lights on my tree, I wish you could see, I wish it every day._" The tree lights flickered, just a millisecond, but it was enough to make Dean jump and do a quick scan of the room to make sure there was nothing supernatural. Even though he knew the bunker was virtually impenetrable, all those years of living on the road, motel to motel, and squatting in abandoned houses had wound him up like a tightly coiled spring, ready to let loose on anything that goes bump in the night. He saw nothing. Usually, this wouldn't really be much of a reassurance, but here he felt he could trust his eyes.

"_The logs on the fire fill me with desire, to see you and to say,_" The flames in the fireplace were flickering, not quite dying but not thriving, and Dean pushed himself out of his chair to stoke it. He threw some newspaper in, something from a few weeks ago that they had been perusing for cases, and watched as the paper slowly burnt and curled. He could imagine Cas' eyes if he were here; how they would fill with wonder at something as simple as fire consuming paper, how he would cautiously throw in some more paper just to see it curl and to see the flames dance across it. _He is so beautiful_.

"_That I wish you Merry Christmas._" Dean let his head fall to the side and his eyes fill with sadness.

"_Happy New Year too._"

"_I've just one wish on this Christmas Eve,_" Biting his lip, Dean raised his eyes to the roof and sent a silent prayer to Cas, hoping against hope that the angel would receive it. He doesn't care much for Christmas, really... but he does care for family. And blood or not, Cas is his family. So are Sam and Gabriel and Bobby.

"_I wish I were with you._" They need him.

"_I wish I were with you._" He needs him.

"_Merry Christmas, darling'._"

Then there were footsteps. Muffled by the carpet, Dean couldn't tell if it were Gabe or Sam.

"I thought humans only referred to each other as 'darling' if they were in a romantic relationship or they were conversing with a child or domestic animal. To the extent that one can converse with a domestic animal."

Not Gabe or Sam, then.

Dean whipped around, not really believing what he was seeing and hearing.

"I'm dreaming, right? You're not here. You can't be."

Cas cocks his head, his blue eyes – _it's been far too long since I've seen them – _studying Dean like he is the most interesting thing they've ever seen.

"Are we in a romantic relationship, Dean? If we are, I'm afraid I wasn't aware of it." Cas ignores Dean's last comment and cuts straight to the chase.

Dean splutters, nearly dropping his beer and only just saving it due to his quick hunter reflexes. "Uh – wha – no – Cas. Cas. No. We're not in a – a romantic relationship. Dude."

Cas frowns, and Dean could swear he saw disappointment cross his features before they dropped back into his normal unreadable expression. "I have come to apologise for the way I have been acting recently."

Dean looked up at Cas in surprise. Cas just watched him, seemingly waiting for permission to continue. Dean nodded.

"I have been avoiding you, and attempting to prevent any form of inappropriate behaviour on my part. Over the past few years, I have developed a sort of... attraction to you. Mentally, spiritually and physically. At first I thought that this attraction might have been reciprocated, but then remembered that you have only ever engaged in coitus with women, so that was not a possibility. Then I incorrectly believed that the attraction would fade over time, or at the very least I would be able to control it, and up until recently I had. Then my body started reacting to seeing you do certain things that enhanced your aesthetic appeal, and I realised I had to keep my distance to stop myself from revealing my attraction. It is only now that I realise the affect my actions have had on you, and I am here to apologise."

Dean stared at Cas for a few long minutes, not quite sure what to say in the face of this revelation. Cas just stood there, watching, analysing, waiting for a reaction. Eventually, when he realised there wasn't going to be one, he turned away.

"I am afraid I have made you uncomfortable with this admission. I will leave you to come to a decision about –"

Cas' words were cut off when Dean grabbed the arm of his trench coat and whirled him around, bring him so close their chests were touching. Dean's other hand came up and caressed Cas' cheek, before slipping behind his neck and pulling him closer.

When their lips were millimetres away, Dean whispered "You could have just said you had the hots for me." before finally pressing their lips together.

At first it was soft and sweet, Dean remembering this was probably the first time the angel had been kissed when sex wasn't on the table – not that it was never going to happen, because it most certainly _was, _just not today. Unfortunately. Then, as Cas broke out of his stupor and began to respond, it grew more passionate, hungry, and Dean backed up until the back of his knees hit the armchair and the dragged Cas down onto his lap.

When they finally broke for air, Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and pulled him tight, afraid that if he let go he'd disappear.

"God, Cas, do you know how long I've wanted to do this for?"

Cas shook his head weakly.

"Years, Cas. Years." Dean growled. "I've been 'pining after your ass', as Gabriel said, for years, and now you're telling me you felt the same way the whole time?" Dean let out a sudden laugh, and Cas peered up at him with a puzzled look on his face. "We are two complete idiots. Years, and neither of us realised." Cas hummed, really feeling as if he'd done his talking for the day and just wanting to let Dean ramble on so that he could hear that wonderful voice which haunted his waking dreams. "I – I love you, Cas, and not in the brotherly way. In the I-want-to-fuck-your-brains-out-the-next-time-we-are-alone way. Which we will do. Next time. I promise. But fuck, Cas. I – you know I'm not good with this whole 'talk about your feelings' thing. I – I don't know how to put it in words. When you're not here, I freak out, and when you are here I freak out even more, but I also feel warm and happy and like there's a football match going on inside my stomach, which is pretty freaking weird when you think about it. I just – I – I want you to stay." Dean finishes in a soft voice. He realises he hadn't been looking at Cas while he was saying all that, and when he glances down he sees Cas staring at him with an awestruck expression on his face and a rising blush.

"I feel the same way, Dean. I love you in the romantic sense that you are speaking of as well." Cas then buries his face in Dean's shirt, and mutters something that sounds like "Now I wish to rest on your body" before moving his arms to circle Dean's ribs.

Dean is watching him silently when something Cas said comes back to him.

"What did you mean by spiritually?"

Cas looked up from where he was burrowing into Dean's chest, frowns before remembering what Dean was referring to, and spoke. "As angels, when we develop an attachment to another being, we cannot fully be attached to that being without our Grace also being attached or, at the very least, allowing that attachment. My Grace has chosen you to be the one it wishes to merge with, and so on that level I have developed a spiritual attachment to you."

Dean froze, looking down at Cas sharply. "Does this 'attached Grace' mean that I have to like grow wings or live forever or indulge on the occasional soul every now and then?"

Cas laughed silently, shoulders shaking against Dean's chest, and shook his head. "No Dean." He shakes his head again. "No matter how much time I spend among you, you humans never cease to confuse me. All it means is that if we decide to, my Grace and your soul will be as one, and we will be together for as long as I live. When you die, generally your soul goes to Heaven, but in this case your soul will remain with me and you will become a spiritual being – not unlike a ghost, but more comparable with a human with ghost-like abilities. When I return to Heaven, however, you will be just as those there, aside from being able to see angels in their true form and having to stay by my side. This will not happen without your consent, however, so you do not need to stress over it."

"Okay." With this new information swirling around in his head, Dean closes his eyes and wills himself to relax. Cas snuggles closer, and presses his fingers to Dean's stomach.

"Relax, Dean." Instantly, it feels as if all his muscles are suddenly just a pile of much, and he feels warm and relaxed and... _happy. God, if you're listening, let me keep Cas. _

"He may not be listening, but I am, Dean. You can keep me, I promise." Dean snickers a little at that – _wait a minute; how did he know I thought that?_

"Because you're thinking out loud, Dean. Now shh."

Just as they were finally dozing in each others arms (or well, Dean was dozing and Cas was relaxing), both content with life and the world and willing to let their guard down even if just for a second, a loud thump comes from the hallway, followed by a voice.

"Oh – oh – Sam! Fuck – harder –" Cas and Dean stared at the wall separating them from the where Sam and Gabe were.

"Cas."

"Yes, Dean?"

"Use your angel mojo and get us out of here."

"As you wish."

Dean's eyes blinked open the next morning, finding himself lying on his bed with a warm body next to him. Turning his head, his green meeting blue, he allowed himself to relax into the grip of his angel.

_His _angel. Whose hair is messy and eyes are entrancing and skin is soft and who is just all round beautiful.

"Merry Christmas, Dean." Dean smiles.

"Merry Christmas, darlin'."


End file.
